


But He's Not as Cool as Me

by shannywan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannywan/pseuds/shannywan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "My Boyfriend's Pretty Cool".</p>
<p>For example, just yesterday he prepared the tea I favour (black, two teaspoons of sugar, preferably in a pycnometer) before I asked him to. The reason I had not yet asked him to prepare my favorite tea was because I was sleeping. I was sleeping because last night I had watched an episode of my favorite TV show, Cosmos.</p>
<p>And then I watched seventeen episodes of My Little Pony:  Friendship is Magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But He's Not as Cool as Me

John Watson is approximately 1.701 metres tall. This made our first kiss somewhat difficult, because I am 1.98 metres tall. I also have a long neck (and toes, but that is irrelevant). However, this impairment did not make the kissing—then or now—any less enjoyable.

Indeed, John Watson has soft lips, and he is well-versed and educated in pleasing others. For example, just yesterday he prepared the tea I favour (black, two teaspoons of sugar, preferably in a pycnometer) before I asked him to. The reason I had not yet asked him to prepare my favorite tea was because I was sleeping. I was sleeping because last night I had watched an episode of my favorite TV show, _Cosmos_.

And then I watched seventeen episodes of _My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic_.

John has many other qualities as well. He has soft hair that does not need a tablespoon of mouse to not look terrible. His hands are never covered in stains from various chemicals, as mine are; although his are calloused. But that only implies, obviously, that he is a tough and experienced man. And John Watson has proven this deduction time and time again.

Admittedly, when I first began my romantic relationship with John, there wasn’t too much romance involved. I detest being touched, even by those I know and trust well. But, as usual, John Watson brings out new and remarkable traits in me. When John kissed me for the first time, I expected to be disgusted. Instead, I was filled with what I can only call the emotion of relief. Though it is physically impossible, I felt as though I were floating. (I’ve only felt this way twice before: when trying heroin for the first time, and when hearing Beethoven’s 9th Symphony played live by an orchestra.)

Now, three months into our relationship, I feel ready for something more…intimate. I never believed I would feel this way about another human being. I’ve had sex before—with men, and women, because as that writer-person once said; trying something once is education, and twice is a bad habit—but it was always unpleasant. Oh, my body was invested, certainly; but not my mind, and that is the most important aspect. For the first time in my life, I feel invigorated both mentally and physically.

I want to say John’s name. I say it in my mind when play violin, and aloud when working on a case. I mouth it at night, when he is asleep beside me, in the bed we now share. I breathe it into him when we kiss. His name is written in my eyes when I smile. It boils in the Bunsen burner, sizzles in the eggs I make in the morning for him, whistles when the kettle is on.

It is there in the silences of his absence. And it is shouted when he returns, when he touches me, when he runs beside me on the darkened, moonlit streets our city.


End file.
